Giving Up
by crazyamoeba
Summary: Once Sammy Bryant had given up all hope of salvaging his marriage, it seemed as though he had also given up on women. Nate was going to have to go to drastic measures. Building up to an M/M relationship. You have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

Once Sammy Bryant had given up all hope of salvaging his marriage, it seemed as though he had, in some small, quiet, and very resolute corner of his mind, given up all hope of sustaining any kind of relationship. Women no longer seemed to even register in Sammy's mind as anything other than potential victims, suspects, or colleagues.

Nate had kept his mouth shut at first, knowing what Tammi meant to his friend.

Their relationship had never been an easy, peaceful thing; rather it was a wild and tempestuous act of nature, almost violent, always sparky and jagged around the edges; it swept into their lives, ravaging them and delighting them, leaving the two people at its eye as helpless as all the on-lookers who were equally awed and horrified. It was never possible to predict what was going to happen, which direction the wind would blow - and they were both such highly-strung, passionate people that the slightest change in the wind could knock everything off-kilter, rip them up from their foundations and leave them glassy-eyed and panting, unable to know just what to do next.

It was never certain what kind of sky-high idea Tammi might get into her head, although it was always certain that she would act on it with an eager, innocent and wild impulsiveness that had captivated Sammy for years, that had been the very thing that had grabbed his attention in the first place - the bright and shining light that shone from Tammi's every pore, catching and refracting in Sammy's awe-struck eyes from the moment he had first seen her to the moment he had asked her to marry him.

But lights so bright begin to hurt the eyes of whoever looks too long, and eventually, the shimmering, silvery star that burned in Tammi Bryant began to make her husband's eyes ache and water, until they both had to look away.

Nate had at first never imagined that Sammy would be able to bear the light for as long as he did. He had thought for sure that he would willingly, helplessly follow in his wife's orbit for a few months, a year at most, until he eventually, inevitably burned away.

But what Nate eventually realised was that Sammy Bryant was not simply a dull and jagged rock to Tammi's brightly burning star, but that he had a light of his own, a fire that burned no less brightly, and one that glinted and clashed with sharp edges against the flames of his companion.

Perhaps two such bright lights, no matter how beautifully they danced and mingled, could never stand to be in such company as themselves, could never survive the competition. Perhaps it was burn or be burnt, and neither one would, or ever could, surrender their own beacon. Perhaps it was that Sammy's star burnt nearer to earth, was not flung so far out in the spaces between the planets, and that there could never be reconciliation of the great distance between them.

Sammy's star could burn soft and warm, a grounded and more stable light that mere mortals like Nate could understand, could grasp, could love. Sammy's light, perhaps, was one that invited a lingering, calm and serene adoration, whereas Tammi's demanded an instant bright and white-hot passion, one that burst into life in a second, giving everything all at once, and shortly having nothing left to give, fizzling out into a long, sad and much-dimmed thing, refusing to ever sputter out completely, but hurtful in its reminder of what it once was and could never be again.

Tammi's eyes hurt too, Nate realised. And there was nothing that would dim the light for her, nothing that would extinguish their painful, searing battle or the little sputtering spark that made her squint and reminded her of the distance between them, and what they could never regain. Nothing, save looking away.

Two people with nothing very much in common other than a deep and ill-advised and utterly unstable love for each other, and there was nothing that Nate could ever do other than be be there and listen, watch and offer what solace or solidarity he could.

So when things finally fell apart, and both parties looked away with tears in their eyes, Nate decided that there was really nothing he could say until the burns healed and the tears dried.

Gradually, after all the arrangements had been finalised and there could be months go by without fresh wounds being opened - and after they had stopped making excuses to show up at each other's doors only to find out just why they had separated in the first place - Nate had started to gently probe, to venture some small possibilities. To poke and prod and see what kind of reaction he got.

* * *

"We're having a barbecue on Saturday, catch the game for those who care. Mandy's going to be there."

"I'll come and eat your food, buddy, but Mandy can entertain herself."

* * *

Nate was nothing if not persistent. He could spend months on stake-outs to get a single conviction, he could do this.

"Hey, I hear that Anna from Traffic is single now. You should move in on that, she's a real nice girl."

Sammy looked up from the case files he was poring over.

"Yeah, she's a lovely woman." He cast a glance around the office until his eyes lit upon their recently divorced colleague.

"Hey, Kenny, you interested in dating Anna?"

* * *

"Sammy, my man!" Nate swung his chair over to Sammy's desk so that he could force his head over the little wall of paperwork that separated them.

"You remember Candy, my wife's yoga buddy? She's getting a divorce. She'll be back on the market, free for the taking. You should put your bid in, man. I heard she likes you."

Most of the time, Sammy didn't even look up.

* * *

"Sammy, you sly dog, you got anything to tell me?" Nate crowed, slinging his arm around his partner's shoulder as they clocked in for the day.

Sammy's gaze was puzzled and unknowing.

"Ivy! At the party last night, man! I saw you talking to her. Didn't I tell you she was a sweetheart?"

"Yeah, she was real nice. I was talking to her about Kenny. He really likes her. I was asking her whether she'd consider going to lunch with him."

* * *

Nate didn't know exactly how long they had been playing this game, but it felt like forever, and he was running out of appropriate single ladies.

One by one they were all either getting snapped up or going on some sort of relationship sabbatical.

For the first time in a long time he had absolutely no names in his mental file of potential candidates.

Sammy didn't seem too concerned when this was pointed out to him.

Frustrated, Nate decided he would have to throw in the towel for the day. This entire month had been a single lady drought, and there was little Nate could do apart from watch as his friend remained completely untroubled by his ever-narrowing chances.

He leered over at Sammy with a half laugh.

"Well, you know, there's always Perry in secretarial. He's just ditched that asshole boyfriend of his." Surly bastard wanted to play games, Nate would oblige.

Sammy went still over the report he'd been writing. His eyes flickered upward by a hair's breadth. They met Nate's for a split second before returning to the computer screen.

_Oh, for god's sake._

How could he have not noticed this? How had this not come up before now?

He sat down quietly, pretending not to have noticed Sammy's slip-up. He would need stealth on his side to execute the plan that was gradually unfolding in his mind.

He glanced at Sammy over their wall of paperwork, finding the other man's gaze firmly fixed to his computer screen, clearly intending not to even look in Nate's direction for the rest of the day if he could help it.

Satisfied, Nate turned to his own workstation, fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment, contemplating. He cleared his schedule for tomorrow morning.

He had to pay a little visit to Captain Anders. He'd heard that if you wanted to see the guy, you had to go through his secretary first.


	2. Chapter 2

Nate Moretta was a charmer by birth. His mother had always said that he had been knocking the ladies for a loop since he was in diapers.

He _liked_ the ladies. He liked to flirt with them. It was harmless fun; everybody got a giggle and a kick out of it. He enjoyed making people laugh, seeing them blush and smile when he lavished them with compliments. Everybody needed to feel good about themselves, and it was one of Nate's chief pleasures in life to be the person that put a smile on a face.

It had been a while before he had realised that he could do the same thing with men.

At first it had been intriguing, an irresistible challenge. It had been so new and different to Nate, and that alone had made it an exhilarating, pleasurable experience, to find out that he could turn on the same smile that did for all the ladies, and with a little time and tender effort, have the men falling at his feet, willing to do anything for a little grin from him.

If he said all the right things, gently probed for all the right buttons to push, all the weaknesses and the thing s that made the guys preen and try to hide a grin, he could, with a few simple words and a caddish smile, have men turn to putty in his hands. He could have them wrapped around his little finger, and it surprised him to learn that it gave him just as much pleasure as having all the ladies cooing over him.

It was slightly different with the men. They tried to hide their pleasure at his compliments; they tried to make their eagerness to please Nate into something a little more masculine. They dressed it up as simply helping out a buddy; they scowled and mumbled gruff words whenever they caught themselves smiling under Nate's charm offensive.

In short, they tried to make the act of giddily swooning over another guy's attentions as macho as possible, but they weren't fooling anybody, least of all Nate. They were just as far gone as the women, and Nate loved to see it.

It wasn't the way that he had been raised. Hell, he didn't think it was the way that anybody had been raised. Even in the most liberal of households, which Nate's sure as shit hadn't been, the rules for men and women were always going to be different.

Men aren't supposed to need praise or compliments. Men should be independent and slightly removed, immune to the pull of affection and flattery.

But Nate had gradually come to learn that this was bullshit, and that he wasn't simply being a pansy-ass, that he wasn't the only man in the world to enjoy the attention of others.

Everyone needed to feel the warmth of someone else's attention sometimes, and Nate was touched when he could be the one to provide that for another guy.

And yeah, he wasn't going to lie, there was a little power aspect to it that kind of did something for him; another man, helpless against his smiles and his flattery, striving to gain his approval.

Hell, what man, if he was honest with himself, didn't like the idea of being in control, of having other people eager to do his bidding, to please him?

Power, loyalty, _charm._ That was what machismo was all about, whether some guys liked to admit it or not.

But this was flirting, pure and simple. It didn't have to have deadly serious consequences for anybody's fragile male ego; it was a chance for some fun, and nothing else. Nobody had to question their sexuality or renounce their membership to the man club.

Fun, that was all.

Fun, Nate could do. He knew all about that. He was _good _at that.

* * *

This, however, Nate might not be so good at.

This felt like new and uncertain territory, and he had had the distinct feeling all morning that he was somehow out of his depth.

The stakes were higher this time. It almost felt like he was trying to nab a date for himself.

He even felt the old pop-the-question nerves kicking in, and chuckled ruefully.

He hadn't felt like this since he had asked Mariella out on their first date. This wasn't just flirting, this felt...serious.

This _was _serious, he reminded himself.

This was his best friend's chance to do something new and different, to pull himself out of the rut he had been stuck in ever since the separation. This was his chance to hopefully find something, or someone, to put a smile back on his face. And this was Nate's chance to help him do that.

* * *

"Morning, ladies."

He beamed and showcased an unrepentantly sleazy wink as he strode through the glass doors of admin, past Sarah and Marie, who gamely contorted their faces into expressions of comically over-done disdain.

They rolled their eyes, but the smiles that broke through their exaggerated indignation were dazzling and genuine.

A shame that he couldn't stop and talk, but today he was a man with a higher purpose, a divine calling, and nothing was going to derail him.

He wended his way through the maze of desks until he reached what seemed to him to be an appropriately placed workstation in the middle of the bullpen.

The figure scribbling away at a huge, leather-bound appointment book did not even look up when Nate stopped at his desk. After a few seconds of polite silence, Nate cleared his throat quietly.

The kid's head whipped up so hard it must have hurt, and he stared up at Nate with wide eyes, blinking like he was suddenly staring straight into the sun.

"Yes?"

The voice was so surprised that Nate almost laughed. It was the tone of someone who was accustomed to working alone, totally unused to anybody disturbing the sanctity of his silent work.

He blinked again, rapidly, as though, if he were lucky, Nate may simply prove to be an illusion to be shaken out of his vision.

"Hi." Nate turned on his most charming grin, careful not to let it tip from flirty to predatory.

"It's Perry, right?" He extended a hand as he hooked a leg around a stray swivel chair, dragging it over to the other side of Perry's desk without breaking the eye contact that seemed for the moment to be keeping his fish on the hook.

"Yeah." And then the kid's large eyes narrowed a little in suspicion and alarm, yet still that eye contact that seemed to puzzle him remained unbroken.

Wary? Absolutely. But intrigued nonetheless. It was always better to know than to be left in the dark. Nate could appreciate that all too well.

Perry was staring at Nate intently, as if he could figure out his intentions through some kind of one-way telepathy. He had that sort of shell-shocked, wide-eyed look of confusion of someone who has just been woken up very suddenly.

Deciding that if the conversation was ever going to move forward, he would have to be the one to instigate it, Nate took the smaller hand in his for a gentle shake and smiled reassuringly.

"We've met before."

This didn't seem to improve the situation, the only reaction being a blank stare before the tips of the kid's ears reddened slightly and he shifted uncomfortably before opening his mouth to utter a whole-hearted and utterly fabricated exclamation of sudden and joyous remembrance.

Nate chuckled silently at the almost painful effort towards politeness. Cute kid.

"It was only very briefly, please don't worry," Nate cut in before Perry had the chance to flounder.

He turned up the charm a couple of notches, settling down into his pilfered swivel chair. He grinned, turning the full force of it onto the kid on the other side of the desk.

"I wouldn't remember me either."

And those are the magic words that let Nate know that he had a foot in the door. Perry had fair skin, and the blush that spread from his cheeks to his neck showed up easily, a beacon of success, and Nate doesn't bother to hide his grin.

"I'm sorry," Perry made a valiant effort at a smile, "I'm sure that I'd remember you. It must have been a busy day."

Nate shrugged, granting Perry an easy smile.

"Hey, don't worry about it. There's nothing so special about this face that you should remember it." Nate knows that his wink is probably milking it a little, but what the hell, there's no point messing with a tried and tested formula.

Perry's huffed-out laugh had more in common with a snort, and he tilted his head, leaning it on his fist as he regarded Nate with a raised eyebrow.

"You find that that works well for you?" The kid's smile was clearly reluctant, but persistent.

Nate's eyes widened, eyes earnest and hurt, the very picture of high tragedy.

"Does what work? I'm only trying to have a conversation with you." Nate's sincere, solicitous gaze twitched, unable to hold the ever-present flirtatious smile at bay. His eyes glinted, and his tongue played at the inside of his cheek as the smile cracked into a grin.

"Why? You trying to tell me there's something else I should be trying to do with you?"

The kid blushed an even brighter red and opened his mouth, only to close it again, seeming to be undecided between indignation and startled laughter.

"No, no, I'm sorry," Nate reached and took Perry's hand in his, smoothing over ruffled feathers until the kid sat still again, regarding Nate with the narrowed eyes of one magnanimously tolerating the presence of an obnoxious pig.

Nate lowered his eyes apologetically with a small, rueful smile. He released the smaller hand from his grip, watching as Perry quickly pulled his it back toward his chest with wide, slightly alarmed eyes, as though afraid Nate might have infected it with something unpleasant.

"I'm kidding, buddy, ignore me." Nate offered up another smile, this one warm and reassuring, and suddenly a mile away from the mischievous lasciviousness of the moment before.

"That's what I had been trying to do." Perry sniffed, turning away from his visitor, but not back to his work. He watched Nate from the corner of his eyes, curious despite himself.

Nate laughed.

Cute. An attitude.

Underneath that curiously pretty, almost prim little face, there was an attitude as big as the city. Sammy was going to like this kid. Really like him.

"You're funny, Perry. I like you." He smirked as Perry's face scrunched up in only slightly exaggerated distaste. "But I haven't been entirely honest with you."

A sudden wariness glinted in Perry's eyes; a shadow that had been flitting about just under the surface ever since the kid had first looked up to see a virtual stranger towering over his desk. But there was a light which flickered there, a need to know, an inquisitive nature, which reassured Nate that his window of opportunity was not completely closed.

But it was a near thing, and the time for the truth was now.

"See, the thing is, as much as I've enjoyed your company, I'm not really here for myself, you know?"

The leather of the swivel chair creaked as Nate leaned forward to murmur conspiratorially to Perry, who unconsciously mirrored the move, those wary eyes caught by the secret in Nate's own despite everything.

"Because I have a friend who'll like you even more."


End file.
